


MAYBE YOU'RE DREAMING

by spicyshimmy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-07-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyshimmy/pseuds/spicyshimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for misslonelyhearts, who commissioned a Sterek picture, and spader7, who drew that commission. Stiles has these dreams, and waking up is hard to do. Set during season one's house guest situation. <i>Anyway, Scott was Pinky. Stiles was the Brain, and Derek was that cranky dog that was always chasing them around. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	MAYBE YOU'RE DREAMING

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misslonelyhearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslonelyhearts/gifts).



One thing they hadn’t really talked about—which, okay, how were you even _supposed_ to talk about something like that, even or especially with your best friend?—was whether or not the whole… _werewolf thing_ changed the way you dreamed. The… _stuff_ you dreamed about.

It wasn’t like Scott would think it was unusual or out of character for Stiles to start a conversation _kind of_ like Pinky from Pinky and the Brain, only Stiles was definitely the Brain in their duo and Scott was the Pinky.

Well, if Pinky was also a werewolf obsessed with this one girl and used the same password for everything no matter how many times Stiles ‘The Brain’ Stilinski told him to cut that _out_ man _seriously_ and _you’re killing me, you know that, right?_

Anyway, Scott was Pinky. Stiles was the Brain, and Derek was that cranky dog that was always chasing them around.

Or maybe the dog was from the Animaniacs. Whatever; Stiles didn’t have time to be up on his favorite youtube channels anymore because he was too busy _googling wolfsbane_.

‘Hey Scott,’ Stiles said. ‘So, uh, this whole werewolf curse thing, you know, do you—hey, here’s a strange question, but I was just wondering, do you ever, like, dream about people, people who might or might not have bitten you? Do you ever…’

Yeah, no, that was great. That was _perfect_. That was exactly the way all conversations should totally start from now on. ‘Do you, best friend Scott McCall, ever have dreams about a werewolf biting you sexually and then, possibly, doing other things sexually that involve the mouth only less teeth in the more vulnerable areas of your body? Let’s hang out after this and keep being friends like asking you that wasn’t the weirdest question ever! We’re totally still cool for sleepovers, right? _Awesome_.’

Nobody ever said awesome and meant it. Awesome was the word people used when they were thinking the opposite of awesome, which was _not-awesome_ and also _dreaming about werewolves_ and also _Stiles’ life._

‘ _Awesome_ ,’ Stiles said again, then blinked.

Derek was there. Back there. Still there? _There_ there, in Stiles’ room, wearing one of Stiles’ shirts, looking big and ridiculous and _awesome_ , _actually_ awesome, in it.

‘This is a dream,’ Stiles said. ‘This is _so_ how all the dreams start. I’m dreaming about my dreams in my dream and this isn’t werewolf stuff anymore, this is…this is freaking _Inception_.’

But in the dreams Derek responded to him—there was a conversation going on, actual dialogue, not the sound of one hand clapping or one tongue flapping. Stiles would say _It’s you_ and Derek would say _Yeah_ or something with actual words—not too many of them; there was only so much Stiles could do for suspension of disbelief—a growl scaring Stiles about as much as it turned him on. And then there was biting but not, technically, the werewolf biting thing, just…teeth, guy teeth, regular sexy dude teeth on Stiles’ throat and, you know, maybe, _sometimes,_ on his thighs.

‘I’m just, you know how it is…’ Stiles swallowed. ‘Talking to myself, experiencing some kind of hysteria, the usual…me stuff you’re probably used to by now. Hi, this is my room, so the rules are I’m _basically_ allowed to do this without you looking at me like…that.’ Derek didn’t say anything. ‘Only, right, I forgot, _you’re_ the werewolf in this equation, which means _you’re_ basically allowed to do whatever, wherever you want. So please, please, just keep…stretching out that t-shirt. It’s not like I ever wanted to wear it again or anything.’

Stiles wasn’t expecting Derek to take off the t-shirt.

He wasn’t expecting his best friend to come to him one day with the whole I-turned-into-a-werewolf speech, either, so Stiles already knew he couldn’t trust expectations anymore. Or his dreams. Or Scott to use a password that wasn’t the same thing for every account. Or _anything else ever_ , for that matter.

‘I’m still not sure if this is a dream,’ Stiles said. ‘Do you think maybe we could clarify that, what with the whole…shirtless…thing that’s happening here?’

Derek made a face, three parts _Shut up, Scott_ and one part _Shut up, Stiles_ and then a dash of _I’m the big, bad wolf and you like it, puny human_. Stiles swallowed again and Derek dropped the t-shirt on the floor.

‘Of course,’ Stiles said. ‘The laundry basket’s _right_ there but you’re…the wolf so you can just, you know, do that. All the time. _Awesome_.’

‘Awesome,’ Derek repeated.

‘Awesome?’ Stiles asked.

‘It’s hot,’ Derek said. ‘In here.’

Then, he nodded. The nod meant _That’s why I took off my t-shirt that was your t-shirt, puny human_ and also probably _It’s mildly amusing to watch you sweat, even if my sexy werewolf face doesn’t know how to smile._

Stiles was now fluent in sexy werewolf-ese.

‘Okay then. I could open up a window, maybe. Or _I_ could take off my shirt.’ Stiles put his hands on the hem. ‘Oh, look, I’m gonna do it—and I’m gonna wake up any second now—’

He didn’t wake up. He got tangled in his t-shirt instead and when he finally got out of it and dropped it on the bed Derek was in front of him, down on his knees.

‘The laundry basket’s right there,’ Derek said.

‘That was a…’ Stiles really should’ve asked Scott that dream question and he was really, _really_ glad that he hadn’t yet. ‘You just made a joke.’

‘Huh,’ Derek replied, showing some teeth like he was ready to bite. ‘Maybe you’re dreaming.’ 

**END**


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